


K2 Week Collection

by TrashKat



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, sp k2 week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-15 11:25:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15411855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashKat/pseuds/TrashKat
Summary: A collection of prompt fills for k2 week on tumblr.





	1. Playing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle's struggling to adjust to college, so he digs up an old MMO.

Kyle doesn’t really know why he does it. He’s been in college for all of three weeks and he’s already a far too permanent resident of the  library—a combination of manic studying and trying to avoid his roommate like the plague—as well as a too frequent lurker of all the usual online forums—his fingers always get stuck between typing  _ How can I stop? _ and  _ How can I make it better?  _ It’s obvious that something was bound to give, and it seems like it’s going to be sooner rather than later.

He downloads the first MMO that gets suggested to him.

It’s not even like he’s a complete stranger to the realm of playing video games. After all, he’d played them in grade school all the time. Admittedly he played less in high school, when reality started to shift to just the wrong side of real, though he’d still bought all the new consoles. But the one thing that connected all those experiences, compared to this time around, is that it’s the first time he’s doing it all by himself.

It shouldn’t make as much of a difference as it does.

Before, he’d always had friends. They’d go to each other’s houses after school to play together and yell at each other just a bit more than friends maybe should’ve. They’d told him he absolutely had to get the newest copy of whatever was popular at the time, that he couldn’t study because there was a raid starting in ten minutes and if he wasn’t logged on by then they would just have to start without him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like games, because they’d always been fun, it’s just that more often than not he wasn’t playing them because he wanted to so much as because he needed to. 

He’s never been alone in a game before, which is why he doesn’t understand why he’s decided to do this. Of all the stupid, compulsive college decision-making he’d been told to watch out for, downloading a video game certainly hadn’t been one of them.

He only plays it in the library, after midnight when he’s done studying but not quite done enough to risk leaving. He plugs in a cheap pair of headphones and hunches with his back to the wall, sitting in the furthest corner of the room, gaze flicking up like he still expects someone to walk up and ask what he thinks he’s doing. It’s college, of course, so no one does, but he still expects them to and it makes him shift in his seat too much.

At first, all he does is run around by himself, completing meaningless quests and killing inordinate amounts of dire boars, climbing his way slowly through the levels one late night at a time. Eventually he reaches a point where he can’t quite do all the quests he wants to without partying up, and he tells himself that the auto-party queue would just take too long, and who wants to deal with annoying strangers anyways. He moves on to the arena, where he can fight with annoying strangers instead.

He’s not bad at it, and even though he doesn’t talk during matches people still try to invite him to all sorts of guilds. He declines them each time, leaves the lobby without a word, spends a few minutes reviewing flashcards before he makes a new one and starts the cycle all over again. It’s a good way to kill time, and nobody in the library has called him out on it yet, so he lets himself settle into the status quo and drift.

He accidentally accepts a guild invite a couple days later.

His heart leaps in his chest—it’s only partly due to panic—and he means to apologize for the misunderstanding and leave the guild right away, but the guild chat fills the bottom of his screen and the steady stream of green text full of  _ Welcome! _ and  _ Hello! _ and, a little concerningly,  _ Sweet, fresh meat!  _ makes him pause, his cursor not quite reaching the button. It’s not like being in a guild could really hurt.

_ I thought I was the only person crazy enough to be up this late. _

Kyle’s in the middle of an arena match when the innocuous green text flashes in the corner of his screen. It’s pushing almost three in the morning and he’s arguably exhausted, so instead he’s toughing it out at his usual spot in the library. Quietly, he agrees with whichever guildmate it was who sent that message. Their guild isn’t the largest around and as far as Kyle’s aware nobody is usually online by the time he finishes studying, let alone now. 

He finishes his match and before he can hesitate he types back,  _ Time Zones exist, you know. _

There’s a long pause where Kyle just watches the screen, suddenly apprehensive. He considers just giving up and queuing up for another match, resigned to his fate.

_ What time is it for you? _

Kyle bites his lip and replies,  _ 3 a.m.  _

This time there’s no pause.  _ You bastard _ , his guildmate says, and something almost like a smile twists itself onto his face. 

_ I was just pointing out a fact. _

_ Well, so was I ;) _

This time he can’t prevent the laugh that escapes his lips. He clamps down on it a moment later, more than a little horrified, but can’t deny the pleasant tingle like static that rushes through his veins. Things feel brighter, even if just for a second.

He’s about the queue up for his next match when another message appears.

_ As my first act of vengeance, I demand that we fight. _

Kyle raises one eyebrow.  _ What, now? _

_ Hell yeah, right now. Fight me. _

_ Sure, I’ll make a room.  _

_ You better brace yourself, guildie. _

_ One question though. _

_ Shoot. _

Kyle can’t help himself.

_ Will you still count it as revenge when you lose? _

***

_ So is there any reason you’re literally only on at god-awful-o’clock?  _

Kyle pauses and says,  _ I’m busy. _

_ So in your rare free time you like to play shitty old MMO’s? _

_ You’re playing the same shitty old MMO you know. _

_ Yeah, but I don’t have standards so… _

_ And you think I do? _

_ You know, most people don’t try to encourage others to insult them. _

Kyle doesn’t reply to that. He goes back to the silence, jumping from lobby to lobby looking for an easy fight. He finds one, but then his mysterious new late-night companion types something again.

_ You down for a rematch? _

Kyle’s fingers twitch for a brief moment and he shifts in his seat.  _ Sure. _

***

There’s not much to be said for all Kyle’s obsessive studying. At some point, it extends far beyond preparedness and falls into borderline useless, but there is one obvious perk: it’s a good excuse for why he hasn’t called back his parents.

The last time they talked, they’d only said goodbye after his dad had painfully, bluntly asked if he’d scheduled a meeting with the college’s pre-law advisor. Being so busy meant he didn’t have to tell his parents that he hadn’t even so much as looked up their email. His grades were important, after all. 

Playing games is a good way not to think about it.

That night, his now-regular companion asks,  _ Why are you playing this game? _

_ What do you mean? _

_ You’re only ever online at night, when there’s like no one around. Why play an MMO if you’re gonna ignore the whole point of the second M? _

_ I talk to you, don’t I? _

_ And I love you for it _ —Kyle tries to ignore the sudden burning heat on his face— _ but I’m serious. The pvp’s not THAT great. _

Kyle chews his lip, wonders how to explain it. He doesn’t want to sleep yet; it’s a good place not to be himself; it’s the only place he feels like he’s actually accomplishing something, vague and intangible as it may be. He settles on an acceptable answer a few minutes later:  _ It’s a decent distraction. _

There’s no reply for a long time after that. Kyle wonders if maybe his new companion has gone to bed, and tries to ignore the little bubble of disappointment at the thought, but nevertheless it pops up later—

_ You’re kinda weird, did you know? _

Kyle huffs, but it comes out as a sigh.  _ Thanks. _

_ <3 _

***

_ Ok seriously, do you ever even sleep? _

_ Yes. _

_ When? _

_...Sometimes. _

_ Sleep’s good for you, you know. _

_ I know. _

_ You should try it some time. _

Kyle wants to brush it off, turn it into a joke like usual, ask for another rematch instead. What comes out instead is:  _ I have a roommate. _

It’s not his most eloquent moment.

_ Ok…? Lots of people have roommates.  _

_ Nevermind. _

_ No, no! Are they an asshole or really creepy or something? What’s the problem? _

_ It’s not their fault. _

_ Cmon, darling, give me something to work with here! _

He’d really rather not. He minimizes the chat screen and gets lost in matchups for another hour, until his eyes really start to droop and he thinks maybe it’s safe to start heading back. It’s only an impulse, a sleep-deprived split-second kind of bad decision, but he opens the chat back up and reads:

_ That space is as much yours as it is theirs, you know. It’s not like you have to earn it or anything, it’s already YOURS. You should try talking to them... maybe you’ll even become friends. _

It’s a nice thought.

***

He’s talked to his roommate exactly once, since arriving at college, and even then it was only to negotiate the top and bottom bunk. Sometimes when he gets back to the room late he can just make out a mop of sloppy blond hair sticking out from the top bunk whenever he crawls into bed. It’s only because their names are still plastered on the front of the door to their small dorm that Kyle even remembers his name: Kenny McCormick. 

The only other thing he remembers is that Kenny has the most beautiful blue eyes he’s ever seen.

The idea of being friends with Kenny… intimidates him, honestly. But it’s been weeks and things still aren’t  _ right _ and it’s starting to drive him a little crazy, so he clings to his guildie’s advice with all he’s got and pulls himself out of bed early the next morning, when he knows Kenny gets up for a part-time job he has on campus. He rolls out of bed just as Kenny sneaks back into the room, hair still dripping from the shower, and when they make eye contact there’s a long pause.

“Hi,” Kyle says, lamely, feeling a bit like he’s been run over or tossed around.

Kenny stares at him, blinks once, twice, like he’s not really comprehending the existence of someone else in his room. Kyle tenses, curls his fingers tight into the side of his cheap mattress, and wishes he was still asleep. 

Then Kenny smiles, and that wish gets tossed out the window.

“Hi, Kyle,” he says, like he’s practically  _ shining _ with joy—and then he’s grabbing his backpack and running out the door.

Kyle watches as the door slides shut, feeling like he’s been given all the puzzle pieces and none of them all at once. Huh.

***

Kyle takes a chance and brings his things back to the dorm room early that night. He sets up on his bed, back resolutely pressed against the wall, and logs on to his game, thinking about spectating a couple matches while he takes a practice test. Maybe he also kind of wants to talk to his guildmate, too.

Kenny gets back a few minutes later, and once again he pauses at the door and they lock eyes. Kyle doesn’t say anything this time, just holds his breath, and Kenny smiles again like he’s invented sunlight. He pulls a beat-up old computer out of his bag and settles down on the floor across from him, slumped close to the poorly placed power outlet in their room. They sit across from each other in silence, both doing their own thing, and somehow it’s actually nice.

His guildie logs in just as Kyle finishes filling out the first section of his test.

_ Sorry about the other night, I didn’t mean to get all in your business. _

Kyle feels a small smile rise on his face and says,  _ Don’t be. _

_ You want to fight tonight? _

_ Sorry, I’m kind of multitasking right now. Just watching. _

_ Kinky. _

Kyle chokes on his surprise, half from embarrassment and half from laughter. He notices in the corner of his eye the way Kenny’s head suddenly inclines towards him, but he doesn’t acknowledge the outburst and eventually Kenny looks back down, where he’s been leisurely typing away.

_ I feel like I should be offended you didn’t invite me. _

_ If you make a lobby I’ll watch you instead. _

_ Nah, I’m just chilling tonight. My shows are worth more than that anyways ;) _

_ You wish.  _

This time, Kenny’s the one who lets out a breath like a chuckle, and Kyle raises his head to watch him. They still don’t say anything. Kenny’s back to typing a few seconds later, a pleasant background noise compared to the deathly silence of the library.

_ You know, you’ve managed to gain a reputation as the guild’s own version of a cryptid. I heard a couple members talking about it earlier. _

_ A cryptid? _

_ Yeah, half the guild’s not even sure you’re real, they don’t believe me when I say I’ve talked to you. Maybe I’m just hallucinating you or something. _

Kenny’s a graceful typer, fast but even. Kyle used to practice all the time as a kid in order to type the same way.

_ I do only show up around the witching hour, you know.  _

Kyle’s idly aware of the funny way he and Kenny seem to be taking turns with their own typing, so there’s always the little background noise of clacking keys.

_ Are you trying to spook me? _

_ Is it working? _

_ Well, I’m definitely spooked by your sense of humor, if that counts.  _ There’s a lull in the conversation before his guildie says,  _ I’m gonna go get some orange juice. _

_ Why? _

_ Why not? _

Kyle rolls his eyes. He finishes another section in his test at the same time that Kenny sets his computer aside and stands up, heading for the door. He shuts it quietly behind him, probably not wanting to disturb him as he works, and Kyle wonders where he’s going at the same time that he realizes there’s a short essay section on this test and he needs binder paper for it. He sets his laptop aside and slides off his bed to grab some from his backpack, digging through haphazardly discarded old quizzes and loose pencils.

Kenny returns to the room a moment later with a bottle of Sunny D from the vending machine outside, and Kyle freezes. And stares. 

Kenny glances at him with an easy grin on his face, but something in Kyle’s expression must tip him off, and his face slides into something more carefully neutral. He glances at Kyle, the binder paper in his hands, and back to the bed where Kyle’s laptop sits open, facing them. The game is still open.

Kenny glances down at his orange juice and his mouth falls open into a small ‘o.’ 

“Multitasking, huh?” Kenny asks, his voice twisted and a little tight, and all Kyle can do is stare.

Kenny looks a little terrified, and Kyle feels like he should be, he  _ complained to his roommate about his damn roommate, after all _ , but instead he just feels light. He feels relieved.

“Still hallucinating?” Kyle aks quietly, meeting Kenny’s gaze, and everything just clicks.

“Thank god you’re not,” Kenny breaths, “Seriously, I was halfway to wondering how it’d work to try and date a hallucination and then it was just weird because cyber-dating  _ never _ ends well and—shit.”

Kyle tries not to laugh at him and fails, and there’s just something far too charming in the desperate, panicked smile that looks permanently stuck on Kenny’s face. He’s not light now so much as absolutely floating, so he feels brave enough to tease, “I’ll have you know that I happen to have  _ standards _ . You think you can meet them?”

They’re both grinning now, and it would hurt if it wasn’t so warm and pleasant and  _ right _ , and Kenny finally sets aside the damn orange juice and pulls Kyle into a tight hug. 

“You bastard,” he says, and Kyle laughs.


	2. Rebel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Princess Kenny is determined to save her people from a pointless war.

It’s been years since Kenny’s snuck out of the castle. Granted, circumstances are a bit different this time around, considering the last time she’d done it she had been a kid and doing it just to prove she could, that there was an outside world and she was ready to interact with it. This time, she’s doing it because she needs to. Simple as that.

Cartman’s not going to happy with her. He never really is—happy, that is—but especially not now that she’s deliberately disobeying him. Well, it might be a bit more serious than that. She doesn’t like to think of it as treason, not when she’s doing it to save her country, but suddenly guards are shouting and she’s running and a stray blast of pure magic tears through her shoulder and, well, treason it is.

She’s been told it’s dangerous outside the castle walls, that there’s a war and that anything non-human can’t be trusted. But things… things are bad. The country is suffering, the people are suffering, and Cartman—Cartman’s not happy. She tried to talk to him, but it hadn’t gone well, and Cartman may be the Wizard King but she’s a princess, _The_ Princess, and she’s going to do what she can.

She’s going to talk to the Elves.

She doesnt know how far it is to the border, or how long the journey will take. It’s probably going to be dangerous—it usually is—but she’s not afraid of taking risks. She’s no politician, and they’ve been at war for years, but the elves have a king and he’s going to listen to what she has to say. 

She’ll make him. 

She travels through the woods where there’s cover, stays off the well-worn roads even as the brambles snag through her long cloak and her ankles protest the uneven ground. Cartman will be looking for her, and she’s not so much scared of being punished as she is of failing the people. Her people. She thinks of them when her limbs feel heavy and the foliage tears her clothes and exposed arms to tatters, dreams of their bleak futures in the brief hours she allows for sleep. 

It’s why, when she’s ambushed by elves just days from the northern border, she hardly even flinches. She’s not stopping until she reaches the king.

It’s only a small scouting party, a cobbled-together collection of archers and soldiers, and Kenny knows even before the first arrow releases that magic is her best chance here. She’s not fighting to kill, only to reposition, to wait and find that one moment where she  _ could  _ win but she won’t, so they know without a doubt that she’s not what she seems. It proves more difficult than she thought it’d be, with the combined onslaught of swords and arrows that have her focus constantly torn between threats, dancing out and back into reach, weaving the air with purple. The magic’s nothing more than barrier casting, translucent lavender than dissolves to dust under impact, but it keeps her safe for the time being until finally—

There.

She’d gone on the offensive, briefly, to knock one of the archers out of his perch on a tree, and he’s sprawled, dazed, on the ground. Her gaze falls on the prone target and she spins a little web of blood red conjuring magic that thins into a needle-point dagger. She launches it at the body, pulse pounding under her skin, but then there’s movement, faster than her eye can even follow, and one of the soldiers is throwing himself into the dagger’s path, protecting his ally with his own body. Kenny’s breath catches and she barely manages to halt the spell in time, the point of the dagger resting squarely between the soldier’s eyes. He hadn’t even flinched. 

The entire fight grinds to a halt, something tense and horrible and hopeful all at once, and Kenny knows that now is her chance. She opens her mouth and says, “I want to talk.”

The elves surround her, and the other archer of the group steps forward to stand in front of her. She’s blonde, the tips of her ears are adorned in intricate metalwork jewelry, and she’s beautiful too. “Speak,” she commands, and Kenny has no reason not to oblige.

“I fled from the Wizard’s castle, by risk of my life, to seek audience with the King of the Elves. I have information that can end this war.”

There’s a long silence after her words, and a couple of the elves have expressions of open shock on their faces. The blonde archer presses her lips together, until they thin and begin to turn white, before finally she asks, “Why should we trust you?”

Kenny has been thinking of this moment a lot, since even before she acted on her plan to leave the castle. She knew they’d ask, or that she’d have to prove herself somehow, and she’d tried to plan for it but it isn’t until this very moment that it finally comes to her, and she knows what she must say.

“I could have killed your soldier,” she says, dipping her head in the direction of the elf that almost met the tip of her blade, “but I didn’t. The Wizard’s petty war must end. I intend to make it.”

The archer’s eyebrows raise, polite but incredulous all at once, before a smirk rises on her lips and she nods as if in approval. “Very well. We’ll escort you to the king.”

Something an awful lot like hope flutters in Kenny’s heart for a moment before she schools her expression back into something more grave. “You have my gratitude,” she says, and her words are nothing but honest.

The elves regroup around her and the blonde gestures towards somewhere deeper in the forest. “The king has an encampment near the border, to organize scouting parties. We’ll take you there. Two days away.”

Kenny merely nods in agreement and attempts to collect herself for the remainder of the journey. She likes to think the hardest part of her mission is past her now, but fear still lingers in the back of her mind, because she has yet to meet the mysterious Elven King and doesn’t know what he’s like. She fears he may not want to speak to her, that he’d sooner die than consider peace. She has no way to know.

She allows herself to glance at her new travelling companions for the next couple days, and her gaze settles on one elf in particular, the sacrificial soldier from before. He has fiery red hair and a burning gaze, and they don’t speak but Kenny would swear on her life that he’s challenging her somehow, like he doesn’t believe her.  _ Go ahead and try, _ his eyes say as they watch her, so she sets her jaw and watches right back.  _ Fine. _

***

Kenny knows she shouldn’t be so surprised, but she still is. She’s only been around these elves for a few hours now, and she can’t get over the way they act. They’re all so  _ human _ . Even the blonde, who Kenny assumes to be their leader, laughs and jokes around, snickers at the teasing and snide comments they all enjoy throwing each other’s way. They seem more like a group of adventuring friends rather than scouts of war, and if circumstances had been different Kenny even entertains the thought that she might join them in their fun. 

Still, it is only a fleeting, if pleasant, thought. What really worms its way into her heart, makes it ache with painful familiarity and alarming humanity, is the redheaded elf who’s remained quiet this whole time. 

Kenny can’t help the way her gazes drifts to him more and more often as the journey continues. Sure, he smiles in amusement at his companions’ antics, and his eyes clearly flash with thoughtfulness at whatever it is they say, meaning he’s clearly listening, but that’s where it ends. He never speaks. Kenny recognizes it in the stiff slope of his shoulders, the tight pace of his steps, the downward tilt of his chin—he’s lonely. And Kenny knows all about loneliness. 

She’d spent the greater part of her life stuck in a castle, after all. People were always weird about talking with her. Being a princess had put her in a bubble, like she’d been born with a barrier around her that she had never figured out how to dissolve. She’d given up on it a long time ago, but she recognized it in this soldier, that particular brand of longing to be seen as a person, as an  _ equal _ . She understands it, more than anyone.

It’s what ends up driving her forward, towards his side, only a couple polite paces back from his shoulder. 

“Tell me, soldier, are all elves trained to be as reckless as you are?” 

The elf doesn’t jump, but it’s a near thing. He glances back at her, his expression flashing back and forth between offended and surprised. Kenny, for her part, tries her best not to laugh as she clasps her hands together behind her back and grins. The other elves have fallen silent, watching them, but Kenny ignores them. Her attention is for the soldier and the soldier only.

Eventually, the soldier’s expression settles and he opens his mouth. “I did what I believed was right,” he says, slowly, and Kenny quietly rejoices at having heard his voice for the first time. She likes it.

“You’re very brave, then,” she compliments, and the soldier tilts his head, expression still guarded. 

“It’s necessary,” he says, and Kenny can’t help but feel that he keeps trying to deflect her, somehow. There’s an angle here, something she’s missing to open him up, but for the life of her she can’t seem to find it, so she tries once again, just one more time.

“I admire your dedication,” she says, adding a smile. “Soldier.”

He makes a face then, Kenny can only describe it as pained, and she’s halfway to wondering how on earth this one elf could possibly be so hard for her to read, when he finally lets out a breath and says, “Call me Kyle, if you must.”

A little thrill washes over her and she takes another step closer. “Of course I must, Kyle.” She winks. “And you can call me Kenny.”

***

Kenny hadn’t actually meant to talk to Kyle all that much. A couple comments here, an idle question there—that was more what she’d been expecting. She hadn’t expected to actually  _ like  _ him. 

Because she does. And it’s actually a little unsettling. Kyle is smart, and sharp as a tack, and when he’s actually loosened up and warmed enough to her to give her his first real smile—and wasn’t that a moment she hadn’t been prepared for—he’s earnest in a way Kenny had forgotten people could be. She’d grown too used to the nobility that drifted in and out of the castle, always smiling that little smile that hid hatred and greed and lies, so to see him smiling because that’s what people actually  _ do  _ when they’re happy, well… 

She doubles down on her resolve for peace.

When they settle down to make camp for the night, Kenny does her part by conjuring a small magic fire, and while the elves retire to sleep—minus the blonde, who takes the first shift on guard—it’s just her and Kyle, sitting next to each other in the warmth of the flames.

“Kenny, may I ask you something?”

Kenny turns so she can face Kyle, taking in the way the light and shadows play across his face. “Certainly.”

Kyle’s jaw works for a moment before he asks, “Why are you doing this?”

“I told you,” she says, “For peace.”

“Yes,” Kyle acknowledges. “But, I get the feeling there’s more to it than that.”

Kenny thinks she catches the blonde elf staring at them, and wonders if she’s trying to eavesdrop. Still, it’s not like she can do anything about it, considering they’re the ones escorting her to the king. 

She folds her hands in her lap and stares into Kyle’s gaze, trying not to look ruffled.

“You put yourself in danger,” he pushes when she doesn’t speak. “You said you fled from the Keep. Surely you risk the Wizard’s wrath for that.”

“It’s treason,” she clarifies, a little too cheerfully. Her chest feels tight.

Kyle blinks, unfazed, and his eyes glitter in the firelight. “So, why?”

Kenny runs her fingers gingerly over the scrapes on her arms. The wounds are still raw, and they feel warm to the touch. She closes her eyes and takes a breath, willing the tension to seep out of her veins. 

“My position as a princess has always been tenuous,” she says, and bites her lip. Kyle’s head tilts ever so slightly, and she fixates on it, draws another breath. “I know what the people of my country truly go through, and I know how it only gets worse during war. You lose too much, every time. C—The Wizard’s reasons for war dwindle every day, yet he refuses to talk. Talking, it’s something I can do. So I’m going to do it.” She sighs and looks down at her hands. “I need to do it.”

Her breath catches when she feels a hand reach out and clasp one of her own. She looks up, and Kyle’s watching her, that same burning in his eyes from before. But it’s not a challenge this time. It’s a promise.  _ I understand,  _ he seems to say, and Kenny carefully squeezes his hand in return.  _ I knew you would. _

They stay like that for a while, holding on to each other in the silence. It’s only when Kenny’s shoulders begin to droop with exhaustion that Kyle finally lets go of her hand. She finds that she already misses it.

“Go sleep,” he says, and then swallows. “You meet the king tomorrow.”

Kenny nods, and then goes to stand up. Before she can, though, Kyle reaches out once more and brushes his fingers over the scratches on her arms. He whispers something, some word in elvish she can’t understand, and a trickle like water flushes through her inflamed skin and soothes her. The cuts begin to vanish, one by one, until her skin is unmarked once more. She watches the magic in wonder, not sure what to say.

“Sleep,” Kyle repeats, and Kenny goes.

She didn’t think elven soldiers knew magic.

***

When they arrive, the sun is just beginning to sink and the encampment is alive with activity. The blonde archer leads the way, and Kenny walks side by side with Kyle, towards a large tent in the center that Kenny can only imagine houses the elusive Elven King. 

She’s nervous, and unsure what to say.

As their party passes, the other elves begin to pause in their tasks to mumble and watch. Some dip their heads, while others bow as they walk past. It’s unnerving, and Kenny wonders if perhaps this archer is more than a mere scout team leader, but it seems rude to ask, especially now. 

They enter the tent, and Kenny steps inside with confidence. In her heart she knows she’s afraid, but it wouldn’t serve to display it to the world, so she draws herself up and raises her chin, ready to confront the king.

She doesn’t see him when they enter. Instead, a man with dark hair—a human, she notes with surprise—approaches their group and bows.

“Your Majesty,” he says, and Kenny has a brief moment to panic, to glance at the blonde archer and wonder if maybe, maybe, but no, even the elves had referred to their ruler as a king, so who—

Kyle steps forward, and the rest of the scouting party melts away.

Another elf approaches, and offers an intricate crown of twisted wood to Kyle, who takes it graciously and settles it atop his head. Kenny’s heart hammers in her chest, and she thinks of the warm trickle of healing magic from earlier, feels herself like she’s drowning in it and—

Kyle turns back and faces her with that same smile, his very first to her, and all the panic washes away.

“I heard you come seeking an audience with the king,” he says, his tone light with playfulness. He’s a little tense, nervous even, as if afraid he might have upset her, and Kenny can only shake her head, not quite believing her luck.

“Your Majesty,” she says, grinning, “your reputation precedes you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” he replies just as easily, and Kenny laughs.

“The best.”

“Good,” he says, chuckling under his breath. “So, what did you wish to discuss?”

Kenny knows she can do this. She’s been rehearsing it in her head ever since she first decided to leave the Keep. She’s already  _ told  _ the king her intentions, she realizes, and it’s clear that he’s open to it. That he’s willing to talk. She’s never been more relieved in her life.

“I wish to discuss the possibility of peace between our people,” she says, with renewed confidence, and everything falls into place.

Kyle nods. “I’ll hear what you have to say.”

He smiles, then, and reaches out with his hand, offering it to her. Kenny takes a moment, just to take it all in, before she steps forward and places her hand in his. It’s warm, and it feels like hope, at last.


	3. Sleepover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenny takes Kyle stargazing.

Kyle answered the knock at the door promptly at nine, when he’d been told to, and his eyebrows immediately raised in disbelief.

“Do I even want to know where that blindfold’s been?”

“Nowhere unsavory,” Kenny assured, then popped a grin. “I think.” 

“That’s comforting,” he replied dryly, but made no attempt to pull away when Kenny reached out to grab his hand and tug him outside. “This is part of your grand scheme?”

“It’s not a scheme, I’m not scheming,” Kenny huffed. “It’s calling wooing.”

“Nobody calls it that, Ken.”

“I call it that. Don’t pretend, I know you secretly love it.”

Kyle rolled his eyes and lifted his arms, letting his fingers trail against Kenny’s elbow. “No. But I love  _ you _ .”

“Aw, Ky, that’s sweet. Not a secret, but sweet,” Kenny teased, and then clapped his hands on either side of Kyle’s face. “Now shut up and let me blindfold you.”

Kyle gave a long-suffering sigh, but he was smiling nonetheless, and Kenny took it as his cue to slide the fabric over Kyle’s head. When it was fit snugly in place, Kenny was careful to slide his hands down to rest on Kyle’s shoulders, anchoring him in his grip. 

“Ready to go for a walk?” He asked, pitching his voice just a breath lower. 

“If you fuck with me I’m castrating you,” Kyle replied instantly with a smirk. There was a beat of silence, and then the smirk settled into something much gentler. “Let’s go.”

Kenny nodded, and then, realizing that Kyle couldn’t see, slid one hand down Kyle’s arm to link their fingers together and squeezed. When he took his first step forward and tugged, Kyle came easily.

With Kenny guiding him, they walked for a while, until the lefts and rights and careful side-steps all blended together and all Kyle had to go on was the rustle of grass under his boots. Kenny talked sometimes, just to fill the silence, and Kyle wasn’t sure Kenny even knew he was doing it but he appreciated it nonetheless, like the steady hand in his, all quiet reassurance.

“We’re here,” Kenny announced eventually, bringing Kyle to a halt. With careful fingers, he pulled the blindfold off, and Kyle blinked a few times until he could properly make out the scene in front of him.

They were in a clearing by the forest’s campgrounds, that much was clear. There was a small tent set up, a lantern hanging out by the entrance, casting a small glow around the site. It’s size paled in comparison to the large arrangement of blankets splayed out on the ground, and the frankly obscene number of pillows meticulously arranged on top of them. He didn’t want to know how long it must have taken to haul them all out here.

Kenny was watching him out of the corner of his eye, trying and failing to act casual. “Surprise?” He said hesitantly, lacking his usual blustery assurance.

Kyle’s eyes flicked to his. “It’s a nice night for it.”

With that, he settled into the blankets and lounged against the pillows, clearly expecting Kenny to follow him. So he did. The night sky opened up above them, and they watched.

“You’ve always liked the stars,” Kyle observed. His skin was pale in the cold night air so Kenny grabbed another blanket and tossed it over both of them. They drew together under it subconsciously, enjoying the warmth.

“Yeah,” Kenny said.

Kyle hummed. 

“There’s just something about them,” Kenny continued, and then took a breath. “They remind me of you.”

Kyle rolled onto his side to face him, a searching question on his face. 

“They’re bright. Stand out from everything,” he explained, and Kyle’s response wasn’t a scoff, exactly, but it was a noise close to it, like a dismissal. Like he didn’t believe it. Kenny drew closer to him.

“I’m serious,” he said, “Like, no matter where you go you can always see the stars. That’s what it’s like with you.”

Kyle smiled and chuckled under his breath. “All I ever see is you,” he mumbled, “I told you that, God, what, three years ago? Doesn’t seem like it.”

Kenny smiled back. “You know, I used to think they were like you ‘cause they were so out of reach.”

Kyle’s smile slipped off and he was already shifting, trying to push himself up, his expression sharp and mouth open. Kenny stifled a laugh and waved him down.

“Kyle, relax! I said I  _ used  _ to,” he said. “Not anymore.”

Kyle was still watching him suspiciously, twisting to prop himself up on his elbow. “It better not be anymore,” he grumbled. “You deserve everything, Kenny.”

Kenny closed his eyes. “I like it when you say that.”

“It’s true,” Kyle pressed, leaning in, so Kenny leaned in to meet him halfway.

“I’m just saying,” he continued after they pulled away from a kiss, “It’s been a hell of a three years. I used to think I was unlucky, but I think all my luck was just being saved up for you.”

“I don’t know how you come up with all this stuff,” Kyle replied, eyes soft behind the joke.

“It’s our anniversary,” Kenny smirked. “Gotta pull out all the stops.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “You know I love you, right?”

Kenny found Kyle’s hand under the blanket and nodded.

“Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually a scene I reworked from a pre-written thing from a longfic idea I'd been plotting for a while, cuz I don't like the longfic anymore, hence why it's shorter than usual.


	4. Secret Dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle and Kenny experience love in the time of post-it notes.

When it happens, Kyle feels like he should be more surprised. That said, he also feels like he should be less amused, but it turns out he’s neither of those things. Kenny just has a way about him; things aren’t the way they should be, when it comes to him, and Kyle can’t help but love it.

He lays out the crumpled paper Kenny handed him earlier that day flat on his desk and traces the smudged ink with one hand.

_Do you like me? Yes or No._

There’s little hand-drawn boxes next to each answer, and an arrow pointing to the yes with a hastily scribbled _I heard the cool kids pick this one_ written below. Kyle snorts, caught somewhere between disbelief and oddly charmed. Kenny’s sitting a few desks away, hunched resolutely over an open notebook. Doodling, maybe. He stubbornly refuses to look as Kyle stares at him.

Sometimes, Kyle thinks, he gets blindsided by how unapologetically outrageous Kenny can be, that he forgets that most of the time he’s actually pretty quiet. It’s always been a bit of a mystery to him, like puzzling out an orange-clad mess of apparent contradictions. The fact that Kenny’s being especially quiet about this draws him in, half curious and half warm all at once. There’s something going on here. He can just tell.

He drops his own sheet of carefully folded paper on Kenny’s desk right after the bell rings, before Kenny’s even done packing up his things. There’s a moment, when the paper hits the desk, that Kenny’s resolve breaks and his head snaps up to catch Kyle’s gaze. Kyle doesn’t say anything, but he smiles as he leaves to catch up with Stan, feeling Kenny’s eyes on him the whole way out.

Kenny unfolds the paper with trembling hands.

_I heard the coolest kids ask the guy they like on a date. Tonight at 6?_

There’s no box for yes or no, but Kyle’s there at the table during lunch and their eyes meet when Kenny takes his usual seat across from him. Kenny just returns the smile and nods.

***

Next week, Kyle finds a post-it note stuck to the inside of his locker. He peels it off the same time he grabs for his algebra book and glances down at it, not even bothering to worry about how it got there.

_Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are?_

He feels the heat creeping up the back of his neck at the words. There’s only one person he knows with suspiciously loopy handwriting and the audacity to use words like _gorgeous,_ and the compliment digs up the echoes of their first date, letting it all resonate. He hadn’t seen Kenny look that happy in a long time.

When he steps into class, Kenny is already in his seat, so Kyle walks past him to get to his own, clasping Kenny’s shoulder gently as he goes. Kenny visibly perks up at the touch, but Kyle’s already drifted past him and sat down. He glances over just in time to see Kenny peeling the bright yellow post-it from the spot he’d pressed it into Kenny’s shoulder.

_I had a nice time too, Ken. Let’s do it again sometime._

Kyle takes a moment just to memorize the unabashed grin that breaks out on Kenny’s face, like the living, breathing definition of bliss.

***

_Gorgeous AND smart. Like, really really smart. How are you even real?_

Kyle finds the note when he opens his backpack in the library. Kenny must have slipped it in somehow when he wasn’t looking. He was beginning to develop a newfound appreciation for just how sneaky Kenny could really be.

Kenny finds a note stuck to the inside of the hood of his jacket when he tries to slip it on before heading outside. He barks out a laugh and pulls it off.

_All real, and all yours._

Kenny’s not surprised that Kyle’s already starting to read between the lines of what he says. What he is surprised by is how relieved it makes him feel.

***

_I finally figured it out, Ky._

_Figured what out?_

_That face you make at lunch, when you think nobody’s looking._

_I don’t make a face._

_You totally do._

_Totally don’t._

_You do! Don’t worry, I think it’s cute._

_I don’t._

_Aww, c’mon babe <3 _

_No._

_:)_

_Stop._

_:(_

_Kenny, I swear._

_You know we love you too, Kyle~ But me most of all. We’ve been over this, I already called dibs._

Kyle catches his eye across the classroom when he finds the latest note hidden under his desk. Kenny winks at him and stifles a laugh when Kyle just rolls his eyes and carefully tucks the note away in one of his folders. Kenny knows Kyle keeps them all, no matter what he pretends otherwise. He knows because he keeps them all too.

When class gets out, Kyle lingers behind and Kenny obliges him. When everyone’s gone, Kyle walks up to him and not-so-gently rests a post-it note against Kenny’s lips. He leans in a presses a kiss against the paper, sticking it in place, and when he pulls away his face is bright red. Kenny’s still a little dazed when Kyle runs out, his lips unbearably warm against the paper.

_I love you too, jerk._

***

“Hey Kenny, someone taped a note to your back.”

Kenny had been leaning against his locker, talking to Kyle, when Stan shows up and points it out.

Kenny’s gaze flicks to Stan, who’s making a little sympathetic face, and he reaches back to pull the note off his back. “Huh. I didn’t even feel it.”

Stan gives him a funny look. “You aren’t bothered by it?”

Kenny folds open the paper as Stan turns imploringly to Kyle, who just shrugs. They’re quiet as Kenny’s eyes skim the page, and then he folds it back up and slips it into his pocket with a satisfied little pat.

“Well?” Stan prompts. “What does it say?”

Kenny cracks a little grin. “Oh, you know how it is. Some people just get jealous easily.”

Stan frowns and makes some disapproving comment about petty bullying at their age, but Kenny just glances over his head to Kyle, whose face is still painted a careful neutral. He quirks one eyebrow, and Kyle just smirks.

In a rather bold black marker, the note reads, _This one’s mine._

***

_You play a pretty nasty game of footsie, Mr. Broflovski. You been practicing?_

_It’s not my fault you yelped like a puppy._

_I couldn’t help myself!!!_

_Good._

***

Kyle and Kenny are engaged in some kind of intense staring match when Butters approaches their table.

“Hey Kyle, do you mind if I borrow your history notes?”

“Sure, Butters,” Kyle replies absentmindedly, without taking his eyes off Kenny. “They’re in my bag.”

“Thanks a bunch,” Butters says happily, and takes the cue to get them himself. He digs through Kyle’s bag until he finds a rather sizeable folder. He’s always been impressed by how well Kyle can pay attention to history lectures.

He sets the folder down on the table and opens it up to find what he’s looking for, when Kyle and Kenny finally seem to finish with whatever they’ve been doing.

“Oh shit—”

“Butters, that’s not—”

There’s no history notes in the folder. Instead, all he finds are stacks of old post-its and folded up binder paper. He picks one up, a little surprised by how violently Kyle is launching to his feet, and reads: _Sometimes I just want to push you up against the lockers and kiss you._ There’s a short reply, in different handwriting right under it, that says: _Why don’t you._

Oh.

Butters drops the note at the same time that Kyle snatches the folder from him, shoving it back into his backpack in nothing short of a panic. He turns to Kenny, somewhat stunned, and says, “Oh, gee.”

Kenny grimaces.

“I’m happy for you two,” Butters squeaks, and then dashes out into the hallway, a blushing and blustering mess.

“What do you think our chances are?” Kyle asks, clearly struggling to regain composure.

“It’s Butters,” Kenny says. “You can already tell just by the look on his face.”

Kyle nods tersely, and Kenny’s stomach lurches. It’s not sadness, it’s _not_ , but Kyle’s clearly not happy and the whole school’s probably going to find out in less than an hour and he isn’t really ready for things to end yet. Not like this.

“Well,” Kyle breathes, and Kenny tenses, bracing himself for the words he doesn’t want to hear. “I guess I can do this as much as I want now?”

What?

Kenny swears he’s usually sharper than this, but Kyle walks over and kisses him before he has enough time to think. It’s nice. Really nice. Perfect, actually. He chases Kyle’s lips when he pulls away.

“Don’t worry Kenny,” Kyle mumbles against his lips, smiling. “You still have dibs.”

Kenny huffs and just barely resists the urge to nip at Kyle’s lips in payback. “Good.”


	5. Presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenny knows there are plenty of things he never gets to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a littleeee bit of non-graphic description of character death in this but it's pretty tame. Otherwise, no warnings, enjoy as much angst as my fluff-centric self could stand to write :)

Kenny didn’t realize his mistake until a week later.

He’d been too swept up in the thrill of it all. Kyle’s warm fingers when they brushed against his own, the tickle of wild red hair against his cheek. His heart had raced, he’d been so happy. After weeks of uncertainty, dancing around each other, Kenny had finally thrown caution to the wind and asked, and Kyle had said  _ yes _ .

A week later—time enough for just one measly date, though Kenny’s heart still felt like it was bursting from joy—he remembered. 

He was going to die. And Kyle was going to forget all of it.

Kenny wasn’t so happy after that.

***

Kenny was used to not being happy. He’d adjusted a long time ago to the reality of not getting what he wanted. That was just how it was, how it had always been. Most days, he found it didn’t even really matter, because you couldn’t lose what you didn’t want, and he’d always been pretty easy-going.

But he couldn’t stop wanting Kyle. And yeah, that thought scared him.

On their second date, they went hiking. Kenny had suggested lunch, even though it would probably mean picking up more shifts around town and missing class, but Kyle just gave him one of his many inscrutable looks and grabbed his hand, dragging him out to some of the nearby trails. 

“I’ve been stuck inside studying all weekend,” Kyle said with a shrug, and Kenny wanted to kiss him.

There was a lookout point just under a mile away, and the trail snaked uphill relentlessly. They never let go of each other’s hands, and if either of them lagged behind, a helpful hand was already there, offering support. Kenny let himself melt into the gentleness, the silent insistence of the care. He wanted to have this, he wanted it so bad it hurt. He just wanted this.

The view at the lookout was gorgeous. The forest thinned out on top of the hill and the ground cut out sharply, revealing the rolling valleys ahead. The sunlight slipped through the jagged mountain peaks and shone around them. He heard Kyle’s soft gasp of awe as they emerged, and he trailed over to the edge to admire the scene that spread out in front of them. His gaze drifted to the sky.

Kenny’s gaze stayed fixed on the cliff, on the loose rocky footing below. He felt it, the vaguest sense of trepidation, an impending and inevitable end. He’d fall and Kyle would watch him, until suddenly he wouldn’t be. Then Kenny would die, and he’d be alone. 

Kyle would forget him. He’d forget about  _ them. _

Kyle turned back to him when Kenny’s fingers finally slipped from his grasp. One of his eyebrows quirked up, something sharp resting just on the tip of his tongue, but he must have seen something in Kenny’s face, because he paused.

“Something wrong?”

Kyle was frowning, and the sight ached. Kenny shook his head, forced a smile to his face, and stepped forward to join Kyle on the cliff’s edge. He tried not to look down as he took hold of Kyle’s hand.

“No,” he lied.

He could feel Kyle watching him. There was a brief silence, then: “You know, if you’re scared of heights, I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Kenny’s smile widened. He slid a thumb over the ridges of Kyle’s knuckle and replied, “I know.”

***

Their third date was more of an accident than a date, but Kenny still thought it counted. They were going to go the theater and watch a movie, but then Kenny had shown up on Kyle’s doorstep and Kyle had answered looking more furious than he had in months. 

“My parents fucked off somewhere so I have to babysit Ike,” he growled. Then, looking a lot sadder, he added, “Sorry, Kenny. I was looking forward to this.”

Kenny shrugged and let himself in, smirking at Kyle’s sudden look of surprise. “Two babysitters are better than one, right?” He asked with a wink.

Kyle rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face now, a certain glimmer in his eyes, so Kenny counted it as a win. 

They had their first kiss after Ike went to bed.

Kenny slipped out later that night, out the back after Kyle’s parents got home. He walked home with the phantom sensation of lips against his and thought about how it was so much more than what he’d ever wanted, and how it scared him. Because the only thing he ever got even less than what he wanted, was what he needed. And what if that was Kyle.

Headlights flashed and tires screeched in the darkness, and Kenny froze.

A car came careening past, weaving wildly down the road, and he felt the air brush past him like getting slammed with a physical wall. He stumbled, eyes wide in shock, as the glare of red tail lights faded down the road.

He tried to stop thinking about Kyle, but everything ached and he realized that maybe he couldn’t.

***

“Hey Ken, are you free tonight?”

“Sorry, working.”

“Oh. Tomorrow then?”

“I don’t think so, but I’ll let you know.”

“Oh. Ok. Just… try not to overwork yourself, ok? I’m worried.”

“Don’t be.”

***

When it finally does happen, Kenny thinks it hurts a lot more than usual. His heart is stopping but his mind isn’t, racing with pain and regret. He thinks he’s suffocating, and maybe he is. He’s so lonely. And he realizes, as things fade to black, that no matter what he wants, or what he needs, all he has is this. 

He wakes up in his bed next morning, and it’s the first time in years that he’s cried over one of his deaths.

***

“Hey Ken,” Kyle greets him when he gets to school. They’re alone, and Kenny’s not sure he can handle that right now.

“Kyle,” he says weakly. “Hi.”

Kyle frowns. “You ok?”

Kenny tries his best to grin, to go back to looking at Kyle the way he had when they were nothing more than friends. It’s too hard to remember what that was like. 

“Fine,” he lies again. 

Kyle’s frown deepens, and there’s a flicker of something stubborn in his eyes. He grabs Kenny by the shoulders and pulls him out of the hallway, into the empty bathroom nearby. His eyes are narrowed, searching his face for something. Kenny isn’t sure what. Maybe Kyle’s mad at him for something, maybe instead of just forgetting, his memory’s been filled with something unpleasant, something to block out all the happiness, all the joy. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” Kyle says, and faintly Kenny registers that Kyle isn’t letting go, “and I don’t know how to help. But I’m here for you, Kenny, however you need me. I’m here.”

Kenny opens his mouth, not at all sure how he’s supposed to reply, but Kyle chooses that moment to lean in and kiss him. Kenny kind of shuts down after that.

“We’re in this together now. Two are better than one, right?” Kyle says, and then he lets go of Kenny’s shoulders and leaves the bathroom.

Kenny watches him go and doesn’t quite know what to think. He should be shocked, confused, happy even. He sags down to the bathroom floor and stares down at the tiles. He _is_ shocked, as emotions roll back into him, slowly. Confused, yes. And also incredibly, unequivocally happy.

Mostly, he thinks, he’s thankful.

As long as he’s been alive, Kenny’s never gotten what he wants, and he’s definitely never gotten what he needs. It doesn’t make sense, then, why he still has this. For how little he truly understands about his own curse, he’s always understood this. But he has it, he  _ has  _ it, and does it really matter why?

It’s not what he wants, and it’s not what he needs. It’s more than that. What it really is, is a gift, and it’s one he intends to keep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for my k2 week stuff! I had a bunch of fun though, so I'm sure you'll see me around the k2 tag again at some point xD


End file.
